Lost Souls
by MercurialNight
Summary: "But maybe...with what little power you have...you can SAVE something else." An extension of the true ending battle. Frisk discovers that a different kind of strength, strength of heart, is required to save those you love. Currently includes Sans and Papyrus; I might add chapters for the rest. T for Sans's dirty dirty mouth.


The darkness was absolute. She couldn't move her body. Couldn't fight, run, or reach her save file. Everything she knew now, everything she could know at all, was the feeling of being lost and helpless in the vacant void. Alone. She always knew she would end up alone…to think, for once, she'd fooled herself into believing in friendship. Thinking she could find people out there who were still good. How naive…how…

 _'…stupid.'_

Was the world right? Was Flowey right? Everything she'd done to struggle and persevere, all those people she'd come to know—none of it was helping now. She had nothing but her own strength, and it was gone. Frisk had always been the weakling. A pacifist in a world of warriors. The mountain…the journey…it was supposed to change that.

What had her choices changed?

She was still weak. She was so tired of being hurt all the time. Why her? Why did she have to do all of this? Of all the paths to take, Frisk had come to learn one thing about the path of mercy: it was not easy. People always trying to kick you around, kill you, steal your soul—meanwhile you have to talk them down and dodge every attack, or else just stand there and take it… She could see why so many humans resorted to violence. It's much easier to smack something until it stopped hurting you. So then…didn't that mean she had accomplished something that most humans weren't able to do? As painful as it was…Frisk was proud. Every time a life was spared, she felt herself grow. Yes. This was right. She couldn't ever forget that.

She may not have power, but…didn't a friend of hers say something about this?

 _"You didn't gain LOVE…but you gained love."_

Frisk's eyes shot open wide. The darkness vanished. She could see and hear and feel again. Asriel towered above her, recoiling, as she gasped for breath. She felt the cold ground at her back, felt the sharp air stinging in each cut on her skin. Breath—life—rushed into her lungs. Her fingers curled into fists.

As he stared down at the child's battered form, Asriel's eyes held a fear that he couldn't mask. Frisk knew what he was afraid of. Her power. Incorporeal strength that physical force couldn't touch.

She didn't need save files or powerful attacks—she needed only what she knew was right. And she could use it to save her friends. She knew that their souls resonated somewhere deep within that swirling mixture of confusion and darkness. She felt her mind returning to her…she knew what she believed. No one could take that from her. Her friends were not gone; they had just lost their way.

Frisk lifted herself from the ground, fighting back against Asriel's mental restraints. Frisk's shaking arm reached toward Asriel, and as the tears flew from her eyes, she called out their names. "Sans!" she cried. "Papyrus! I can still sense your souls. Please, I...I can't do this alone. I can't lose you! Please…come back... C _ome back!_ "

Asriel shuddered, his attacks stopping as he clutched his chest. He opened his mouth to cry out in shock, and in the next second, a flash of light exploded from the spot above his heart. He was thrown backward to the ground. In his place stood two very familiar figures, their faces shrouded in a cloud of white fog.

A smile of elation broke across Frisk's face and she ran toward them, reaching out. "Sans! Papyr—" She was cut short. The relief in her face melted, washed away by the chill of shock, when a heavy, blue-tinted bone flew through the air and smashed into her head.

Frisk was thrown to the ground, rolling away until she finally managed to stop, crouching as she clutched her throbbing head. She looked up at the two brothers, her friends, who were silently advancing toward her with bones clenched in their fists.

"P-Pap?" Frisk muttered. "Sans…? What's wrong? A-are you—" This time, it was Sans who stopped her, as he threw a bone attack of his own: one sharpened to a spear-like point. Frisk threw herself to the side and managed to get by with just a scrape on her upper arm.

"Sans! Please! Just listen to me, alright? What do you think you're doing?!" she called, feeling her throat tighten and her hands clench into fists.

A hollow echo of Sans's voice sent chills through her heart. "You'll never see 'em again."

Sans…would never tell her that. Even if he thought it. He wouldn't say that to her. The fog around their faces—it was from Asriel. Frisk glanced to where he had fallen, only to see him hovering upright with a smirk on his face, arms crossed, watching. Yes…he must be doing this. It wasn't their fault.

Frisk's eyes steeled. Not again. He would not take them from her—not her family. She had earned them. They'd come here because they loved her…Flowey was right about that. Frisk had never before known people who cared so much for her, who gave everything to protect her. This had all happened because of the sensitivity that made her who she was—the mercy for which humans had mocked and disdained her. She had found truly good people, and she wasn't about to let them die because of her.

Frisk lifted herself from the floor and stood her ground. She could do this. She remembered from before. Papyrus's attacks would make it harder for her to jump, so she would just have to dodge on the ground. Frisk smiled wryly, holding out her hand in a thumbs-up. "Let's go, cool dude."

Papyrus twitched slightly and almost seemed to hesitate. Frisk caught that split second, and her eyes widened with realization just before the attack came hurling towards her feet. She skipped backwards and then to the right and the bone went spinning past.

"Papyrus! You liar!" Frisk accused. "You said you were gonna teach me to cook spaghetti!"

Papyrus twitched even harder; he launched his arm forward but his fist didn't release the projectile it held. "N-no! I must capture a human!" He held out his hand and a blue flash of light burst from his palm. It released a torrent of clubs made from bone, all wavering up and down as they soared through the air. Frisk weaved through them as best she could, but several of them moved at the last minute and caught her in the chest, sending her crashing back down.

Tears stung her eyes. She thought of how Papyrus would react if he were himself. He would have been horrified to see his attacks hit her. She had to end this, before one of them did something worse—something that would devastate them. Frisk slammed a fist down on the ground. She shoved her body upward as she panted for breath. She couldn't lose.

"Hey…Sans…" Frisk muttered shakily, as she slowly staggered back to her feet. "You're so…so calm about all this." Head bowed, clutching her injured arm, Frisk stepped wearily toward the lost soul. He drew back his arm, his fist clutching another club. "I guess nothing really gets…under your _skin_ …huh?"

Sans froze in place. The bone fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. He trembled, like his body wanted to move, but his mind was somewhere else. "S...skin…?"

"NOOOO!" At his side, Papyrus clamped his hands on his ear sockets and screamed. "That was _terrible_! Horribly unfunny!"

Frisk chuckled, lifting her head to reveal a mischievous, genuine smile.

Sans forced his head to turn and look at the other soul. The corner of his grin twitched upward. "But…you're…smiling."

"I…" Papayrus shook his head. "I AM AND I HATE IT!" He drew his claw-like hand upward and the ground beneath Frisk's feet began to tremble. She was prepared when the pillar-sized bones crashed through the floor and shot up towards her. With a broad grin on her face, she dove over it and rolled across the ground, coming back up to her feet just in time to duck beneath a barrage of bones from Sans.

"Just give up," Sans's broken, lifeless voice said. "I did."

He had. She didn't know why. He acted lazy, or laid back, but in the small moments when he thought she wasn't looking, she could tell that it stemmed from something much more sad. Sans had no hope for himself. Frisk felt tears burn in her eyes as her voice trembled. "Come on, Sans…" she pleaded, stepping slowly toward the hostile form of her friend and guardian. She didn't dodge any more. His attacks came slower, one at a time—they smacked into her again and again as she staggered forward. "Th-this fight is maki—making me—t-tired. Can't we…can't we t-take a…a break?" Tears streamed down her face. Her shaking arm reached out toward him. One more step. "Sans…please…"

Her little hand faded into the glitchy white fog, and she felt his smooth cheekbone beneath her palm. "Can't we stop?"

Sans could feel a distant, muffled hint of memory, tugging at him relentlessly… some nagging voice in the back of his skull screamin at him that he shouldn't be doing this. Who was he fighting for? Who was he killing? Damn all that, he should be asking himself _why_. Why fight whoever this was? Who…whoever he was…didn't want to. All he wanted was some damned peace. He wanted to make jokes. He wanted to sleep. To plague this guy beside him with incidental music. And to protect that little smiling thing.

Sans's eyes snapped up. The white blur was gone from his vision; he could see. And the first thing he saw was Frisk, blood running down her face from a cut on her head…smiling at him.

"Heh…y-ya got me…" he rasped, looking down at his shaking hands. "You…you really…saw right through me…" Sans's hysterical grin was broken, wavering, but Frisk returned it.

"Good one," she giggled.

Giggled. Blood matting her hair and running down her arm, and she giggled at his lousy-ass skeleton pun. Sans felt his knees hit ground. Fuck…fuck that flower…that little shit! That son of a bitch made him…ah, no. Hell no. He'd never been able to hyperventilate before but if he could, he was pretty sure that's what he'd be doin right now. "K-kid—wh-what did…I—" he choked on his words. What in the hell had he done!?

"NO! WAIT!" Beside him, Papyrus had lost his fog as well, and threw the weapons in his hands to the ground. "You're my friend…" he cried. "I could never capture you!"

Frisk reached out and took his hand, feeling the sharp bones through the red gloves he wore. He caught sight of the blood on her temple and arm.

"Oh…oh no!" Papyrus shook his head helplessly. "Frisk! Did I hurt you!? My dear friend… I don't know what I was thinking. Papyrus would never hurt you!"

Frisk clasped his hand tighter and looked up at him with gentle eyes. "You're back," she beamed. She turned to Sans, who still crouched on the ground with a hand covering his face. "You're back." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sans shut his eyes tight, his hand grasping Frisk's arm. "M'sorry…" he wheezed, shaking his head. _I coulda killed 'er…_

"It was Asriel."

Yeah, whatever. He knew that. But damn…how could he let himself be used to attack her? It reminded him of why he'd given up in the first place. If he was nothing but a puppet to control, then… why even try? This was pointless. Free will didn't exist; why shouldn't they just let things run their course?

"I have to save the others," Frisk murmured.

Sans stifled a groan, trying and failing to make himself let go of Frisk's arm. There she went again— _trying_. He…fuck, he had to let her do it. Cuz _he_ sure as shit couldn't. Besides his mental state, he and Pap were barely holding on to corporeal forms right now. They just…weren't made out of human stuff. No willpower—no determination. "I…" Sans muttered shakily. _Get ahold of yourself, moron—the kid's countin on ya_. He pulled slowly out of Frisk's embrace. She was looking at him with that damned brighteyed stare again. Fuck. _Fuck_ ; she had to do this. Damn it all. Everyone was still trapped in there. Sans knew by now that he was powerless to control how things turned out...but Frisk could do it. It was possible with her.

"Sans…?" Frisk asked tentatively. No—the last thing he wanted to do was make her doubt herself. She could do it. Only her.

Sans forced a broad, confident grin onto his face, like he had so many times before. He reached up to dab away the blood from her face with the sleeve of his coat. "I'm rootin for ya kid."


End file.
